The End is Unavoidable
by Avatarnima
Summary: Thorin/Bilbo - Alternate-ish, angsty ending to Thorin and Bilbo's relationship. (im really sorry)


**This was written over a year ago, I rediscovered it recently while I was searching through my old files and figured** **I may as well post it. To those that may have read my previous fics, this one was written a _looong_ time after those. ****I have gotten significantly better at writing (in my opinion) and those stories _do not_ represent my current writing** **capabilities. As much as I wanted to, I could not bring myself to delete any of them, as all the positive comments** **on them made me too sentimental about them. Note that this story is unbeta-ed and hasn't been properly proofread** **in over a year, so any and all mistakes are 2015 me's fault.**

Bilbo woke up, his head hurt dreadfully. He looked around, after his vision had finally cleared. _The eagles…_ Bilbo thought, looking up at the majestic creatures flying high above his head. And then he remembered.

"Thorin!" He gasped, bolting upright. He stood up and looked around frantically, finding the king, collapsed on the ice. He ran to him.

"Bilbo," Thorin gasped.

"Don't move! Don't move, lie still!" Bilbo ordered.

Bilbo looked at his wounds and gasped, trying not to vomit.

"I wish to part from you in friendship." Thorin gasped.

"Stop talking!" Bilbo snapped. "You're not going anywhere, Thorin. You're going to live."

Thorin, once again, ignored Bilbo's order not to speak, "I take back, my words and deeds at the gate." He gasped out.

"It's alright, there's a time and a place for apologies, not now!" Bilbo said frantically, trying to stop the bleeding on the gaping wound of Thorin's abdomen.

Thorin ignored Bilbo again and continued babbling on apologies. Bilbo looked around frantically, trying to spot anyone who could help.

"Dwalin!" He shouted at the dwarf who was, thankfully, not far away. Dwalin looked to the voice and ran over to Bilbo and Thorin.

"Oh no…" Dwalin whispered when he had reached them, and seen the severity of his king's wounds.

"I've tried to stop the bleeding but it just keeps coming! We need to get him to a healer, quickly!" Bilbo frantically said. Dwalin nodded and together, they carried Thorin, barely conscious, off the ice.

…

Bilbo sat on a barrel outside the healing tent. His mind was numb, too worried about Thorin, FIli, and Kili. Thankfully, someone had gotten help for the young princes before it was too late. They both lay barely conscious in the same tent as Thorin. Bilbo looked to his side at Óin, exiting the tent. Bilbo stood up.

"Thorin?"

Óin's face was grim, and had worried the hobbit an awful lot.

"He still hasn't woken up. His wounds are deep and he'd lost a great deal of blood, but he's doing as good as can be expected." The healer said.

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. "Fili and Kili?"

"Both of their wounds are rather serious, but they're more or less okay for now." He told the hobbit.

"Thank the Valar." He breathed, sitting back down.

Óin had taken a seat next to Bilbo. "Where are the others?" He asked.

"Balin is off negotiating with Bard, Dain, and Thranduil. Dwalin, Glóin, and Bifur are helping clear away the dead, _so_ _many dead_ … I don't know where the others are." Óin sighed, "War is never pleasant… I've seen many in my time but I'm still not quite used to the aftershock."

They sat in a, more or less, comfortable silence, until Balin walked up.

"How are they?" He asked grimly.

"They're doing as well as can be expected, given their conditions. With a bit of luck, they all might pull through." Balin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank Mahal," He said. "Those lads are mighty lucky."

"Aye" Óin said, then he stood up and went back inside to tend to the other wounded.

Bilbo sat outside the tent, trying to comprehend what had just happened within the last few hours. His head was spinning.

"You alright laddie?" Balin asked him. "You don't look too good."

"Yes, I'm… I'm fine." Bilbo stammered. "Just a bit… dizzy." He tried to say. The room started spinning, his vision was blurry. He felt himself falling sideways a bit, although he couldn't see it. He fell off the barrel and hit the ground rather hard, hearing Balin shout "Bilbo!" Then everything went dark.

…

He awoke to pain. A deep, burning fire spread across his whole body. His vision was fuzzy, his head throbbing. _What the hell happened?_ He thought. He grunted in pain, his entire body ached. He blinked a few times and his vision finally focused.

"Óin?" He tried to say, but couldn't get more than half a syllable out. The healer looked over to the cot and rushed over.

"Don't you dare try to speak, Thorin Oakenshield!" He ordered. "I ought to smack you for terrifying us all like that, King Under the Mountain or not! Fili and Kili too, mind you."

Thorin ignored the healer's words, no matter how much more it hurt to talk, there was one thing he had to know.

"B-bilbo?"

"He's fine." Óin told him, busying himself with a few bottles of his medicines and tonics. "A minor head injury, but he's alright. Although your near death didn't help much. That sword just barely missed any vital organs by a fingers length. Let me tell you, Thorin, you are one lucky dwarf."

 _Head injury?_ Thorin thought. "It's all my fault…" Thorin muttered.

"What? Thorin-" Óin tried to reason with him that it wasn't anyone's fault, save for the orcs probably, that this had happened, but Thorin cut him off.

"I was too blind to see it…" Thorin continued babbling on. "He was the most loyal… and _I_ betrayed _him_ …"

"Thorin-"

A sob wracked the king's body, causing the pain already burning his wounds to become a deeper, agonizing flame. "I… _I tried to kill him…"_

"Oh dear!" Óin hurried to Thorin's bedside. It would do the exact opposite of good for him to get all worked up like this. Óin held a glass of one of his tonics to Thorin's lips. "Here, drink it up, now. I'll pour in down your throat if you decide to be stubborn!"

Thorin obliged, not having any strength to do otherwise.

"He'll never forgive me..." Thorin muttered to himself.

Óin smiled at him, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Thorin turned his head, wincing a little. The king's eyelids were getting rather heavy.

"It matters not," Thorin barely whispered. "I do not deserve to be forgiven."

…

Bilbo awoke, his head throbbing. _Where am I?_ He wondered. He tried to sit up, his muscles screaming in protest. He gave up and brought his hand up to his forehead, his head was wrapped in bandages. Bilbo groaned, his head hurt dizzyingly.

"Finally awake, laddie?" Once his vision focused, Bilbo spotted Óin on the other side of the tent. "You gave us all quite a scare, fainting like that."

"What… what happened?" Bilbo murmured.

"You'd taken a pretty hard hit to the head," The healer explained. "And all the shock from earlier didn't help either."

"Thorin," Bilbo finally remembered, running to find Thorin, lying on the ice _dying_. "How is he?" He asked.

"He woke up awhile ago, muttering about what happened at the gate. Then I gave him some medicine and he's been asleep ever since."

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief. "Fili and Kili?"

"Fili's awake now. In pain, but awake. Kili woke up awhile ago but he is asleep now. Do not worry, they're fighters, they'll survive this, you'll see."

Bilbo sank back into the cot, sighing with relief. Everything that had happened within the past few hours had worried the hell out of him. It was relieving to know everyone was still in one piece and more or less okay.

All of a sudden the tent crowded with visitors and voices.

"How is he?"

"Has he woken up yet?"

"Is he okay?"

Bilbo's headache worsened with the noise, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Enough!" Dwalin's voice boomed above the others. "One dwarf at a time, you're making the poor lad's head spin!"

Bilbo opened his eyes again and saw the company, save Fili, Kili, and Thorin, in the tent.

"Hello!" He croaked. "Yes, I'm awake and I'm fine, just a bit of a headache." He told them.

"Alright, everyone out!" Óin shooed everyone out. "Let the hobbit get some rest, for Mahal's sake!" Everyone waved goodbye and wished him to get well soon.

Bilbo sank back into the blankets, fatigue beginning to consume him.

"Get some rest, Bilbo." Óin told him. He nodded wearily, and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

"Are you _sure_ you feel well enough?" Óin asked Bilbo. The hobbit merely rolled his eyes.

"Óin, it's been _three days_! I feel perfectly fine, it was only a little knock on the head." He tried to persuade the healer. "You and I both know that if I don't see him soon he'll go even more mad than he already his. Besides," Bilbo said, a little quieter. "I-I want to take the chance while I have it. You of all should know that…" The hobbit paused a moment, grief and worry choking his voice. "That his condition isn't getting much better."

Óin sighed. "I can't argue with you there, laddie." He took one more moment, contemplating whether this was a good idea or not. After thinking it over for a moment, he gave in to the hobbit's request.

"Alright, alright, you may leave your bed and see Thorin. But I want you right back in here in no more than an hour. You're head's still not completely healed and I'd rather not take any chances!"

Bilbo smiled. "Thank you, Óin." He pushed back the covers and stood up, exiting the tent.

"Just be careful!" Óin called to the hobbit just before he left.

…

Thorin heard the tent flap open. _It must be Óin coming to check on me._ Thorin thought, but he definitely wasn't prepared for who it really was.

"B-bilbo?" Thorin nearly choked on air when he saw the hobbit. He abruptly tried to sit up, only to immediately wince in pain.

"Don't you dare move, Thorin Oakenshield" Bilbo told him. "I'm right here." He said as he moved to stand at Thorin's bedside.

"I-I take back-"

"Stop," The hobbit interrupted Thorin before he could go on sputtering apologies for eternity. "You need not apologize for anything."

 _Has he gone mad?_ Thorin thought. "What do you mean I 'need not apologize'?!" He asked, bewildered. "I went mad with lust for gold and went back on my word to the men of Laketown. I sat back like a coward and let others die instead of joining the fight. I-" His voice broke, a sob catching in his voice. "I… I nearly killed you…" He said, his voice breaking, hoarse and choked with guilt.

"Sshh," Bilbo stopped the dwarf before he could get too upset. He brought his hand to Thorin's head, stroking his hair, trying to comfort him. Thorin tensed at the touch, but eventually relaxed.

"I know," Bilbo said softly. "I know you did all of those awful things." "But I also know," He continued, looking Thorin straight in the eye. "That you were not in your right mind. You would never have done any of those things if you were, that's not the dwarf I met in Bag End all those nights ago. And if you think that I haven't realized that," Bilbo smiled at Thorin. "Then you are one dense dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin closed his eyes.

"Y-you… forgive me?" He breathed in disbelief.

Bilbo nodded. "Yes"

Thorin smiled. "Hobbits… You lot are far too generous." He whispered. It was clear the dwarf was fading fast, sleep overtaking him, probably induced by another of Óin's medicines.

Bilbo stroked Thorin's hair once more. "Get some rest." He whispered to the, probably already sleeping, dwarf king before exiting the tent.

…

Bilbo spent nearly every day like this, sitting in the armchair next to Thorin's cot. Talking to him, sneaking him in bits of food here and there (the porridge and broth that he was always given was rather terrible), or just simply watching him. Marveling that however close things had come, his chest was still rising and falling as he slept. Bilbo was dozing off in his chair, for what had to be at least the 8th time since he's been well enough to be on his feet. When he jolted at the touch of a hand on his shoulder, but quickly relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Oh, it's you Óin." He breathed in relief. "You startled me for a moment, I didn't hear you come in."

Óin smiled warmly at the hobbit. "I'm just here to change Thorin's bandages." He said. He looked closer at Bilbo, concern forming in his eyes. "You should go get some rest," He said gently. "You haven't been sleeping well."

"What- no- I- pssh- I'm fine, thank you." Bilbo stuttered. It was true that he hasn't been sleeping the best, but he didn't care. "B-besides," He faltered. "It's more important that I'm here if he wakes up or… something… h-happens." Bilbo looked away. He didn't want to think it, but he knew as well as anyone that Thorin wasn't exactly in the best condition. There was no guarantee he ever would be. Although he rather would not admit it, nothing at the moment scared him more than the thought of Thorin slipping away now. Especially if he was not there. No, he could not leave Thorin's side. Except for a few minutes now and again, to visit Fili and Kili. Both of the prince's conditions were improving rather well. Or to help around the camp here or there.

Óin shrugged, moving over to Thorin's cot to change the king's bandages. "Alright, have it your way." He grunted. Bilbo stared off into the flames of the torch, illuminating the tent. He let the gentle orange light lull him into a light sleep again.

…

It had been a month since the battle, although it still seemed to be only a few days. Fili and Kili were getting better, slowly but surely. Although, to their dismay, they both were still bedridden for at least another two months. Bilbo spent every waking moment with Thorin, save for moments here and there visiting Fili and Kili. Although Óin never spoke a word about his condition to Bilbo, he did not need to. The hobbit could see it in his face every time he tended to the dwarf king's wounds. _Thorin Oakenshield was dying._ He spent less and less time awake, more and more time in pain or asleep, and Bilbo knew it. Although he would really much rather not think about it, he knew Thorin was slipping away. His wounds were far too severe for anyone to survive for long, and Thorin Oakenshield _would not._ But he didn't give Thorin the smallest hint that _anything_ was wrong. No one did. Bilbo just pretended everything was fine, and continued bringing tea, making jokes, telling stories, and spending every possible moment he could with Thorin.

Bilbo had just finished his tale of "The gingerbread incident" from when he was only a young lad, as they drank their evening tea, chuckling quietly to himself at what ridiculous children both he and Thorin were, as they both traded stories of their childhood. They were both drinking tea and enjoying each other's company, as they did nearly all the time when Thorin was awake. When suddenly, Thorin coughed. And continued to cough. He dropped his teacup, which shattered to the floor, and collapsed into the pile of sheets and pillows he had been previously sitting upright in.

"Oh dear," Bilbo said, dropping his teacup as well as he rushed to Thorin's side. He kneeled down at the left side of the bed. His coughing had slowed down now, but it was clear the problem was not over.

"Oh no oh no oh no oh no," Bilbo cursed. Thorin was laying there, wheezing, trying and failing to get oxygen in his lungs.

"No no, no Thorin, no. Hold on, I'll get Óin." Bilbo stood up to dash away to get the healer, but Thorin caught the hobbits hand before he could go.

"No…" He barely whispered. "It won't… won't do any… good." Thorin rasped out, obviously still struggling to breath. "I knew… this m-moment would… come." Bilbo kneeled back down, still holding on to Thorin's hand. He looked deep into Thorin's eyes. They did not show sadness, or fear, but sorrow, and just the smallest spark of joy.

"No no no, Thorin-" Bilbo pleaded, tears in his eyes.

"I'm glad to have shared… in…" Thorin wheezed. "in each and every one of our perils." He said, smiling at Bilbo. There was one other thing in the dwarf king's eyes that Bilbo just couldn't place.

"Thorin no," Bilbo whispered, tears falling onto his cheeks. Thorin's face was turning pale now.

"Farewell…" He breathed. Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut. Pain and grief hit him harder than that rock in the goblin tunnels ever could have.

"Thorin no, no, no please, Thorin," He sobbed. He could no longer feel his chest rising and falling, could no longer feel his steady heartbeat. Bilbo buried his face in the dwarf's hair.

"Thorin, no, please no." Bilbo took a shaky breath in. He finally recognized it. He finally recognized what was in Thorin's eyes at that last moment.

"No, Thorin, I-I love you, please, no!"

It was love.


End file.
